


Ache.

by JenCollins



Series: 21st's SPN writing challenge [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Broken Dean Winchester, Feels, M/M, Memories, Prompt writing, Truth, mental health, mention of suicide, poetic angst?, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenCollins/pseuds/JenCollins
Summary: Lullaby of Dean’s soul.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: 21st's SPN writing challenge [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092269
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Ache.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 21st story of this challenge.  
> It's something different, something with more of my soul tied into it's words.

**Ache.**

Dean had no idea from where these dark thoughts came from. They were simply a part of him.

He remembered sitting in the Baby, watching John talk with police officers, simply feeling somehow empty, like he shouldn’t be there, still holding Sammy.

He looked over at the burned out house, feeling foreinght ache somewhere in his chest, something like a pull.

He couldn’t shake that feeling all the way till they drove off down the street.

He remembered being in the middle of the school's playground, watching all the happy kids running around, so full of joy. He should feel like that too. John would come and pick him up after lessons, Sammy in the backseat. He got his news magazine. He was alive.

But he just felt like he didn’t fit, like he wasn’t part of all these joyful people running around him.

He was there but he felt like some part of him wasn’t.

He remembered laying awake after one night stand, feeling fully off.

He had a good night, he should feel seated but all he could feel was the distant urge for something, something out of this world.

He wanted to cry.

He remembered trying to bring it up one night, talk about this feeling he got so often. What he got as an answer was being laughed at.

No one got him.

He remembered the first time he had cut himself on purpose. 

It felt like with every drop of blood oozing out of him, he felt like this weird ache was running away. 

With every drop of blood, he felt calmer.

After that he made a habit to be as recles in hunts as possible and never passed up a chance for fight and getting his own blood oozing out of his body.

He remembered the first time he actually tried to kill himself.

It was a bit like an accident, he didn’t really grip the knowledge of suicide, he just felt this sudden urge to let himself slip underwater and suck in a breath.

He spent several minutes after just coughing and sitting still in the water, but somehow feeling lighter than he has been in a long time.

Later he threw it as an off joke, laughing it off, lying so easily that he simply slipped.

He remembered his second time trying to kill himself.

He was older, he had been craving for death for some time now. He knew all about suicide and have daydreamed out his perfect one.

This time he settled on taking a bit too many painkillers.

He got in the bed after, shaking and being cold.

He let tears run.

For some reason in that moment a thought passed through his mind, he didn’t want to die that day, not really.

He woke up the next morning a bit dizzy but with a heavy feel of regret in his chest.

Later he swore not to beg Death again, he has been so close but has got scared.

He remembered all the times that followed, each one failing, leaving him empty and yet full.

He didn’t understand why Death hated him so much to leave him hanging there, not wanting to take him.

Later he blamed it all on the greatest good, on manipulating god.

Dean was sitting all alone in the bunker, feeling cold from inside out.

He sat there, against the dungeon wall, his eyes fixed to the spot where Empty dragged Cas all this time ago.

He took the last sip of his whiskey, not even feeling burnt.

He was cold.

He was alone.

But most of all, he felt this so familiar ache, pulling and pulling, suffocating him.

So he left a note for Sam on the library table, trying to explain as best as he could.

He begged for Sam not to blame himself or anyone else, to live fully and with no regret.

Dean let his head lull back against the wall, closing his eyes for one last time.

And when the reaper came, he greeted it like an old friend, letting himself be dropped over the line.

He was gone, he was at peace.

Ache finally pulled him home.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry


End file.
